


Where There's a Will

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst and Crack, Fluff, Hannibal is so done with his Graham Cracker, M/M, Seduction by Will, Will is not good at seducing, one kill because Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:06:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6188506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kill. A make-out. A freak-out. Will realizes he wants to be more than just murder besties with Hannibal, too bad Hannibal is tired of Will’s rejections. Can Will win over the world’s fussiest cannibal? One or both of them may die trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Attempt 1 - Kiss with a Fist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mwuahna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/gifts).



> Updates Monday and Thursday. Hope you all enjoy!

Will knew rationally that he couldn’t spend the rest of his life in the bathroom. He would have to unlock the door and face Hannibal. At the very least, Hannibal would probably need to piss sometime in the next lifetime, and Will couldn’t imagine the refined killer relieving himself in the economy kitchen sink. 

_It's fine. Hannibal probably won't even stab me. Much._

Will knew he sounded desperate, just like he knew he had royally fucked up. He paced again, staring at his traitor hard on, still bouncing with each step. 

And the evening had gone so well…

* * *

Killing Rojas had been easy. Hannibal had selected a simple target, a brute of a man who lived down a deserted road near Villa de Leyva. No one would miss him. No one would even notice he was dead until the next shipment of coke was delivered to the pack-house at the end of the month. 

It was their first kill since the dragon, and Will’s skin was prickling. He had asked Hannibal to leave the plastic suits at home. The cannibal had acquiesced with a small smile. 

“Do you want to see the blood in the moonlight, Will?”

“No, I just hate your shirt,” Will said with a wry smile as he jimmied the lock on Rojas’ back door. 

The blood was beautiful. Will stood in front of his victim as he slashed his throat. The warm spray felt heavenly as it doused him. Hannibal uttered a small noise as he held Rojas’ spurting throat open, making Will smile, big and feral. 

Hannibal guided Will’s blade as they opened up the gut, intestines hitting the floor with a wet slap. Will pulled at them, fascinated by just how much stuff could fit in the human body. He was so busy playing, he didn’t notice Hannibal fiddling with the body cavity until he heard the sharp _**crack**_. 

Hannibal had ripped open Rojas’ ribs with his hands. Will forgot how to breathe. He tried to edge closer as he watched Hannibal use a blade to slice into the chest cavity. Will was so entranced by the quick, sure movements of Hannibal’s bloody hands, he didn’t notice when he stepped on a piece of small intestine, feet shooting out from under him. His fall was cushioned by a pile of cooling viscera, which squished out foul smelling goo. 

He looked up, and found a pristine white cloth, held out from Hannibal’s bloody fingers. 

“Would you like to help me with the lungs, Will? Or are you content to wallow in the GI tract?” 

Will grinned, mopping at his face with the handkerchief. 

“Show me everything.”

When the meat was harvested and immaculately packed in their cooler, Hannibal helped Will carve scales into what was left of Rojas, arranging him into a candiru and exposing him for the parasitic bottom feeder he was. It was Will’s second original design, and quite beautiful, if Hannibal was to be believed. 

Caked in gore, the duo headed back to the car. Hannibal wrapped Will in a layer of plastic sheeting before letting him inside the vehicle. Normally, Will would have complained about being trussed up like leftovers, but he was still vibrating from the thrill of the blood. He watched Hannibal drive toward Bogotá. So calm, as if they were returning from a day at the beach. As if he hadn’t used the brute force of his arms to snap open Rojas’ ribs and collect his heart. 

When Will closed his eyes, he could still hear the crack of bone echoing in the recesses of his mind. It was a beautiful sound that sent shivers down his spine, straight to his cock. Will was sure the throbbing between his legs was due to the thrill of the kill, not the blood droplets glistening as they trailed down Hannibal’s cheek. He shifted, trying to adjust his erection subtly. Hannibal looked straight ahead, but quirked an eyebrow, his lip curling just slightly as he drove. 

Will didn’t remember getting into the apartment, or whether he had helped Hannibal store the organs in the fridge. He did remember dragging Hannibal into the bathroom of their dingy flat, drunk on adrenaline and head pleasantly thrumming. He told Hannibal to strip and get in the shower, yanking his own shirt over his head. He didn’t have a plan as he stumbled out of his pants, not really, the whole thing seemed like a drunken dare. 

He had turned to find Hannibal naked, blood hardening and cracking on his chest like dried clay. When Hannibal reached for him, Will went willingly, fingers scraping trails through the crimson flakes on Hannibal’s chest. His ears buzzed, his heart clinched on every downbeat, and Will wondered if he was having a heart attack. He looked up into Hannibal’s eyes and saw the monster. The vicious, feral creature that lurked behind the aristocratic brow and sculpted cheekbones. The creature who lured Will into the darkness until there was nothing left of the empath but teeth and claws and pulsing blood. 

The guttural noise that filled the small bathroom came from Will. It had to, since Hannibal’s lips were closed. He wasn’t sure how he ended up with his legs around Hannibal’s waist, if he jumped or the cannibal yanked him heavenward, but he was grateful either way as he ground his still-stiff dick into the doctor’s stomach. Hannibal's hands sunk into the meat of Will's ass, the pinch of nails deeply satisfying as Will undulated.

Will’s beast needed more. Needed release that the blood didn’t give him. He snapped at Hannibal’s lips, more of a bite than a kiss, he could hear nothing but his pulse battering his ears. He wanted to tear and consume, he wanted the oblivion he saw peaking from Hannibal’s eyes. The warm press of turgid flesh against his ass drove him further over the cliff.

_Yes. Yes. Yes._

His mind was droning in time with his heart. And he had never wanted anything more than this moment, this press of flesh.

Everything shattered the second Hannibal’s hand touched his cheek. It wasn’t a hit or a scratch, the touch far too soft. Will released Hannibal’s mouth and leaned back, horrified to find the man holding him instead of the monster. The feral, blood red eyes were gone, replaced by soft maroon orbs, crinkling with pleasure. There weren’t any claws digging into Will, just gentle fingers, holding, caressing. 

Hannibal pulled Will in, his bitten lips dotted with blood and soft, so soft as they tugged on the empath’s bottom lip. Will felt Hannibal settle him on the sink, watched as the cannibal brought his hands to Will’s face, reverently chasing the curls from his forehead. Hannibal’s eyes slipped closed and he leaned toward Will’s lips again.

Will shoved Hannibal with all his might, catching the killer off guard and sending him back a few steps.

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!” Will bellowed, irrational and fierce. He lunged, knocking Hannibal into the door jam. Another push and Will could slam the door and lock it. He expected Hannibal to bang on the door. He half hoped the monster would kick in the flimsy wood and take him on the chipped tile floor. But there was nothing but awful silence as Will caught his breath and felt his heartbeat return to normal. 

And now, all he could do was pace and wonder how everything had gone so wrong.

He had been ready to fuck, to claw and snap and take from the monster. But the man? Will hadn’t even thought of the man. Those beautiful maroon eyes that held him with such adoration. Will couldn’t do that. Soft kisses and lingering looks were too much, too serious. He didn’t love Hannibal.

Did he?

Will moved toward the shower, something cold twisted in his gut. He kept the spray freezing, hoping to numb his brain and deflate his persistent cock. The water did little to ease his tension or the throb between his legs. 

Shivering, he relented and turned the hot water on, grabbing his cock in a punishing grip. He tries the usual imagery: Molly bouncing on him as she moans, Alana and Margot groping and writhing, Hannibal tearing out Dolarhyde’s throat. He can’t quite get there. 

His mind wandered: A soft hand in his curls, the light pull on his bottom lip, warm smiling eyes, arms that could easily snap a rib cage tenderly cradling his body. It doesn’t take much after that, just a few pulls and Will pitches forward choking out a small cry as he comes. 

_Fuck._

Will grabbed a towel and sank to the floor next to the toilet. He thought about all the easy breakfasts in their house outside of Buenos Aires. The way Hannibal stocked the bar with the cheap whiskey Will preferred and brought home a hand stitched dog bed from the market – _‘in preparation for the inevitable,’_ he had claimed. The tight pressure in Will's chest whenever he pulled easy laughter from the doctor with stories of Jack’s infamous crime scene meltdowns. The silly tug Will felt every time Hannibal came home from the market, as if they had be separated for years instead of a few hours. 

How had he missed this? When had Hannibal’s fussy tastes become endearing? How long had he wanted the man as well as the monster? He looked at the bathroom door, shivering as the air cooled the water dripping off his body. He was in love with Hannibal Lecter – stupidly, passionately in love. Too bad he had just attacked him in some sort of epic fit of denial. 

Will had rejected Hannibal before. The first time, the doctor had opened his stomach. The second time, Hannibal had turned himself over to Jack. Will strained his ears. No sirens. No shouts from the policía as they battered down the door. Smart money was on a hurt cannibal waiting for him with tear-filled eyes and a blade. Will wasn’t afraid of the blade. He was afraid of what Hannibal would do after. What good was Achilles without Patroclus?

Covered in goosebumps and dripping into a puddle, Will sat on the floor and waited for Hannibal’s judgment. 

When the door finally opened, there was daylight silhouetting Hannibal’s form. How long had he been curled up on the bathroom floor? Hannibal sat a plate of scrambled eggs and some fresh clothes just inside the door. 

“I know you don’t wish to see me right now, Will,” Hannibal’s voice was soft and Will’s gut twisted for it. “But we need to leave in a few hours and I can no longer wait for you to forgive me. Please eat and change, I’ll meet you in the car.”

Will opened his mouth, to beg, cajole, offer his heart, but Hannibal was gone. He picked at the eggs, wondering how Hannibal had cleaned himself up so thoroughly. A quick scan of their bedroom and the kitchen showed that Hannibal had painstakingly cleaned the flat as well. Will threw on the clothes and sheepishly edged out into the bedroom. 

Hannibal brushed past him, firmly shutting the bathroom door. Will waited on the bed, half-eaten eggs balanced on his knee. After 45 minutes, Will gave up and headed for the car. His cannibal couldn’t avoid him there.

He had almost fallen asleep when Hannibal jerked the driver’s side door open and buckled himself in. 

“Hannibal,” Will’s voice sounded fragile, odd to his own ears. He reached across the console, but Hannibal recoiled. 

“I’m sorry that I took advantage last night,” Hannibal started the car and kept his eyes forward. “I was so pleased to see you unleashed that I forgot myself. It won’t happen again, Will. You can trust in that.”

It didn’t sound like an apology, it sounded like a threat. Will knew the snap of a wounded animal well. He also knew that such ferocity was largely meaningless, just a fear response that would go away in time. 

This was bad, but they had come back from worse. No one was bleeding. Hell, no one was even locked-up. On the grand scale of Hannibal Lecter Reactions, this was barely a blip on a very bloody radar. 

Will settled his head against the window and let his eyes glaze as Colombia whizzed by. He would let Hannibal lick his wounds for now. There was no point in pushing him or his ego when they were scheduled to spend the next seven days in a car. They would get past this. Will just had to pick the right approach, one that would hopefully end with him in Hannibal’s bed and not on his plate.


	2. Attempt 2 - Google It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will does his research. Hannibal continues to pout.

For nearly five years, Will would have given his right arm to shut Hannibal up. Now, three days into their drive, Will prayed for one of the doctor’s long-winded reflections on the nature of killing, or even a musing on whether Scarlatti or Gluck was a greater influence on opera.

Instead, Hannibal stayed resolutely in his mind palace while Will festered in hell. Hannibal would only speak when abjectly necessary, his tone infuriatingly calm, his posture projecting ease.

They stopped in Ecuador, checking into a cheap motel. The room was clean and meagerly furnished, but there was a WiFi signal, which Will counted as a small mercy. The empath sat on one of the twin beds and watched as Hannibal silently brought in their bags. Every time Hannibal met his eyes, Will offered a smile, but got only a blank stare in return. Will noted for the first time that the cooler containing Mr. Rojas was missing.

“What happened to the heart?”

“I disposed of it.”

_Well. Fuck._

Will nodded and tried to think of something, anything to say to fix this.

“I believe I’ll go out.” Hannibal headed for the door. Will rushed to grab his arm.

“Wait. Please.” Hannibal stared at Will’s hand, but made no move to free himself.

“Are you coming back?” Will felt his heart thumping louder, he ignored how needy he sounded. Hannibal met Will’s eyes.

“I always return to you, do I not?”

“Yeah, you do.” Hannibal’s face was impassive, Will’s felt flushed. “Maybe bring back dinner?”

Hannibal nodded, pulling from Will’s grip as he moved to the door.

Will looked around the room with a sigh. On their journey to Colombia, Hannibal had rented rooms with queen beds, pressing close to Will in his sleep. Will never commented, and pretended to be asleep as he pressed back into the warmth of Hannibal’s chest night after night. He wondered if Hannibal noticed that he’d stop wearing shirts to bed halfway through the trip.

Will glared at the twin beds that confronted him now, a sign of just how hurt Hannibal was. It was becoming depressingly clear that Will’s opportunity to play the blushing virgin ripe for seduction had died in the bathroom in Bogotá. If he wanted Hannibal, he was going to have to take the wendigo by the horns.

To do that, Will would probably have to know what he was doing. He understood the basics, of course, but he doubted watching _Pink Flamingos_ and _My Beautiful Laundrette_ with Bev one drunken Sunday had prepared him for the reality of being with another man. If he wanted to be with Hannibal, he had to be sure he wouldn’t pull away again. Some gleeful part of his mind wondered if he could find a trick that would leave Hannibal breathless.

Some research was in order.

Will stepped outside of the motel. No Hannibal in sight. He crossed the street to the small market and bought a couple six-packs of whatever gas station cervezas were cheapest and returned to his laptop. Casting one more look around the room to make absolutely sure Hannibal was gone, Will sighed and cracked open a beer.

_My name is Will Graham. It’s 6:37 p.m. I’m in Catacocha Ecuador and I’m about to Google ‘How to Give a Blowjob’._

The first 10 entries were from _Cosmopolitan_. Will thought about refining his search, then paused. What was it Molly used to say?

_Babe, everything I know I learned from Cosmo._

He allowed himself to miss her for a moment. Life with her had been filled with boring routines and interesting sex. He probably could have pretended Hannibal didn’t exist for another decade if he had been left alone with Molly’s laugh and mouth distracting him.

Molly’s mouth.

Maybe _Cosmo_ wasn’t such a terrible idea. He clicked the link. Right now, he could use 31 Ways to Drive Him Wild.

Will stopped on tip number three.

_Slip a doughnut around his penis and slowly eat it off._

Will took a moment to thank Molly for never attempting to make his dick a reverse-piñata. Then, an image popped into his head: Hannibal Lecter, sophisticate extraordinaire with a doughnut encasing his cock. Hannibal would be appalled. At the very least, he’d insist on making the doughnuts himself. Probably with some fancy glaze that was made out of gold and unicorn tears, or whatever the fuck he used to get a $500 grocery bill. He guzzled another beer as the vision of Hannibal lovingly measuring fresh doughnut dough around his cock danced before his eyes.

He couldn’t stop the laughter. Tears streaming down his face as he cackled, Will thought about his refined love. Hannibal would want a doughnut that matched his sheets. A doughnut that would complement the flavor profile of his skin. It would almost be worth the humiliation of suggesting such a thing to watch Hannibal cycle through his options.

Perhaps a video would be more instructional. 

He typed in a URL and was greeted with the familiar homepage of RedTube. Selecting ‘gay’ in the category header, Will was momentarily overwhelmed by his choices. Clicking on a video almost at random, he drank some more beer and watched as a couple performed a perfect 69.

Will was impressed, he was amused, and he was getting hard. He tried to picture Hannibal under him, and found that the image came easily. He replayed the video a few times, paid close attention to Steve, who seemed to have a tongue move down that drove the other man wild.

Slightly buzzed and incredibly horny, Will attempted the move on the longneck in his grasp. Not that hard, actually. Maybe this would be easy. Experimentally, he tried to deep throat the bottle. Will nearly choked when the forgotten remnants of his beer sloshed into his open throat. His teeth clicked painfully on the glass as he coughed, aspirating carbonated alcohol from his lungs and nose.

Maybe tonight he should just watch.

Hard, alone, more than a little drunk, and almost through all of Steve’s videos, Will opened a new Google tab and typed in _Cannibal Blowjobs_ on a lark. The first fifteen entries were, unsurprisingly from _TattleCrime_. He clicked on a few links: Nothing more than Freddie Lounds’ musing on how Hannibal and Will spent their therapy sessions.

“I wish,” Will muttered, hitting the back key.

That’s when he noticed the video. 

“What the hell.” Will toasted the screen with his beer and clicked ‘play’.

At first, it seemed like one of Steve’s blowjob videos. A young, sweet-faced man with large blue eyes tongued a hard cock before taking it deep. Will pressed a hand to his interested dick, offering a bit of friction to the distressed organ. Then everything went to hell. Will watched, mouth hanging open and flagging hard-on forgotten as the young man with the blue eyes drew back to the tip before savagely biting down on the cock in his mouth. The man off screen screamed as his dick continued to be masticated. Will’s mouth formed a little ‘O’ as he stared at the screen, the beer fell from his hand to the floor.

“I wouldn’t recommend that, it could incur severe tissue damage,” Hannibal advised by Will’s ear. Will shrieked at Hannibal’s sudden appearance mere inches from his person, falling off the bed. Hannibal caught the laptop, allowing Will to flounder on the floor.

“Hannibal! I…I was”

“Masturbating. I can see that, Will.” Hannibal didn’t take his eyes off the video. “Shall I give you a few more minutes to reach completion? Would you like me to replay the video?”

Will thought his face might literally be on fire.

“NO! I wasn’t. I mean I was watching Steve and then I found this and I…What are you doing here?”

Hannibal, who was now stretched out on Will’s bed, held up a bag of food.

“Dinner. As requested. Though perhaps we shall skip the wine.” Hannibal eyed the empty bottles littering the bed and night stand. “Who is Steve?”

Will chose to ignore that. He stood, with as much dignity as he could muster, no mean feat considering he had fallen into a puddle of beer.

“What’s for dinner?” Hannibal handed him a container filled with warm, sugar dusted dough.

“Empanadas de Viento,” explains Hannibal. “A traditional street food, it is a cheese and onion filled empanada, sprinkled with powdered sugar.”

Will wrinkled his nose.

“Fried cheese, onions, and sugar?”

“I’m terribly sorry it’s not a Big Mac, please forgive me.”

Will rolled his eyes and took a bite. As always, Hannibal’s taste in food was beyond compare. The empanada melted in his mouth, an intricate blend of savory and sweet flavors. He couldn’t help happy the little noise that escaped him as he swallowed.

“See Will? One never knows what they like until they put it in their mouth.” Hannibal’s smirk infuriated Will, mostly because he was pathetically happy to see any sign of mirth from the doctor after three days of drudgery. Will broke off a piece of empanada and chucked it at Hannibal, cheeks flushing again. Annoyingly, Hannibal simply caught the projectile in his mouth, swallowing it whole.

Hannibal picked up the laptop and settled back on the mattress, leaning against the wall. Will stood by the bed like an awkward teenager, unsure of whether he should sit, find another place to be, or leap into Hannibal’s lap.

“Shall we watch a video?” Hannibal opened up the browser history and raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps one of my selection, since you seem to have exhausted Steve’s extensive library?”

Will sat next to Hannibal, carefully making sure their shoulders touched. 

“You know what I like most about you Hannibal? The way you let shit go.”

“Do you want me to let go?”

Will let his head fall on Hannibal’s shoulder. The doctor tensed, but didn’t shake him off.

“I want you to pick a goddamn video. How about an opera? Maybe Gluck?” His head bobbed as Hannibal huffed.

“Honestly, Scarlatti is a more important figure, but Gluck has his merits. Did you know that Gluck—”

Will wasn’t listening, he was too busy allowing himself to soak in the man giving the lecture. He thrilled as the deep vibration of Hannibal’s voice traveled through the ear nestled on the cannibal’s shoulder and into his head. This wasn’t what he wanted, not exactly. But for now, it was enough.


	3. Attempt 3 - Flowers, Chocolates, Promises You Intend to Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Hannibal is talking to him again, it's time for Will to get serious about seduction.

Will was about five seconds from smashing his phone. He glared at the screen and back up at the wall of bright blooms. He poked at a purple flower, consulted his phone, and then let loose an annoyed noise.

“Hello, I am Lucila, may I help you?” The florist spoke to him in English; Will wondered what gave him away.

“Lucila, I need to send a message. VictorianFlowers.com says purple hyacinths are the flower that means ‘I’m Sorry’. But FlowerMeanings.net says that it means sincerity. Also, are carnations symbols of passion or what you send at funerals? Because I get a different answer every time I google.”

The florist’s soft brown eyes crinkled at the ends, she must have perfected the sympathetic and welcoming expression after years of ushering nervous men to the perfect bouquet. She reached out and put a calming hand on Will’s shoulder.

“May I ask what exactly you’re trying to say?”

_I want to lick your cheekbones and ride you into the sunset? –No, that’s probably more information than Lucila needs to know._

“I love him. I love him and I fucked up and I need him to forgive me so we can…um…be friends again.” Will couldn’t decide what he hated more: the heat on his cheeks or the smile curling on the florist’s mouth. He forced himself to keep going. “It needs to be the right flower. He’ll know if it’s not.” 

“It is a rare man who knows the language of flowers. You should keep him.”

Will ducked his head.

“I’m trying.”

Lucila led Will to a container of plush red blooms.

“These are peonías. They can mean romance or a happy marriage, but in some cultures they also express shame.” Will nodded, reaching out to brush his fingers over the soft petals. They looked like the blood patterns that bloomed from stab wounds.

“He’ll love those.” Will smiled.

“Now, this is a bit obvious, but he may enjoy a classic symbol as well,” said the florist, holding up a perfect white rose. “This means worthiness and purity of intent.”

Will considered the blossom before looking up.

“So, I’m ashamed of how I acted, but my intentions are pure and I want a happy marriage with you?”

“More or less.”

“Put it together for me.” Will watched as Lucila’s deft hands collected blooms into soft red cloud with splashes of white. It was beautiful. Hannibal wouldn’t even have to rearrange them into an animal skull to display them on the table.

The price was steep, but Will didn’t mind paying for quality.

“So, this going to do the trick, right?” Will asked as he handed her a wad of bills.

“How big was your mistake? A forgotten birthday?” Lucila hesitated. “Another man?”

“There’s never been anyone else, not really.” Will was astounded by the truth in his words. “But I keep pushing him away.”

Out of bathrooms, over cliffs, into FBI custody, Will was starting to see a pattern. Lucila twisted her mouth in thought.

"Commitment can be scary."

Will snorted.

"You have no idea."

“I suppose I don't. But what scares you more: waking up with him or waking up without him for the rest of your life?”

Will looked at the perfect stranger in front of him. What did he have to lose by telling the truth?

“I've lived without him before. I won't do it again.” It was a vow he'd made over and over again since the cliff. Finally saying it out loud caused something warm to uncoil in his chest. 

Lucila nodded and pulled out a sticky pad. She scribbled an address and handed it to Will with the bouquet.

“Why gamble? This is the address of my friend’s shop. She’s the best chocolatier in Buenos Aires. Ask for Clara. Tell her that Lucila said you need the Sorry Husband Special, she’ll take care of you.”

“Lucila, you are the best.” Will felt his mouth form a loose and friendly smile that reached his eyes, something he hadn’t done since that night in Bogotá. He cradled the flowers gently as he left.

“Sir?”

Will turned, smile still lingering on this lips.

“When he forgives you, please remember: We do wedding arrangements.”

Will’s laugh was bright and loud as he stepped onto the street.

* * *

When Will pulled into the driveway, the sun was low in the sky. He had been gone hours longer than he had intended, but he was pleased with his haul. Perhaps tonight he wouldn’t have to rely on RedTube and his memory of Hannibal’s naked body to get him off.

He looked up to the house in time to see the curtains in the music room sway slightly.

_Interesting. How long was he waiting by the window?_

Will opened the door, taking two steps before the bright sounds of a harpsichord filled the house. An obvious cover, but one Will allowed. He was grateful to be missed. Wandering into the music room, he watched Hannibal play for several minutes, the cannibal resolutely keeping his eyes on the keys.

It was sweet, really, how hard Hannibal worked to ignore him. Will walked toward the doctor with confident strides, until Hannibal had no choice but to look up.

“You’re back.” He said dully.

“I am.”

“I was uncertain whether or not to expect you for dinner.”

Will leaned on the harpsichord’s varnish, careful not to scratch it. He held out the flowers.

“Oh, I see. You have a date. I hope you returned home to change.” Hannibal cast a disparaging eye at Will’s cargo shorts and black t-shirt.

Will smiled sweetly as he rounded the instrument. He encroached upon Hannibal’s space, dropping the flowers into Hannibal’s arms.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Dr. Lecter.” He whispered into the shell of Hannibal’s ear. There was no reaction. He hadn’t expected one. Will nosed Hannibal’s ear lightly, with just enough pressure to make the gesture unmistakable. He sat an elegant emerald box on the harpsichord and moved away from Hannibal, who had gone still.

“Since apparently I’m not dressed for dinner, I’m going to go change.” Will paused at the door to catch Hannibal’s eye, gesturing to the box. “I expect you to save me a truffle. See you at dinner.”

He left Hannibal, clutching a bouquet and looking for all the world like a mildly befuddled beauty queen.

When he came back downstairs, dressed in charcoal slacks and a blue button down that Hannibal had wordlessly left in his closet months ago, Will went immediately to the dining room. His heart sank when he spotted a display of overripe fruit in the center of the table. He stepped into the hallway, checked the roughly 43 vases Hannibal had situated throughout their house. All were filled with fresh blossoms, none were peonies or roses.

The pain in Will’s gut was back. The one that made him wonder if he had finally found Hannibal’s limit. He walked to the kitchen, projecting confidence even as he stewed on his failure. Hannibal was plating a broiled fish in a shockingly plain manner. The fish looked like a fish. No tentacles, no jelly carvings, only three tomato roses. Will felt panic rise in his throat.

“Are you alright?” He tried to keep the alarm out of his voice.

“Will, I hope you don’t mind, but I think I shall skip dinner and retire early,” Hannibal held out the plate. The lonely, simple looking plate that contained no metaphor and items Will could easily identify. For the first time, Will truly worried that he had irrevocably damaged his beautiful cannibal.

“Please. What’s wrong?” His hand reached for the doctor, but was filled with the plate as Hannibal easily dodged him.

“I’m quite alright. Just a bit of a headache due most likely to the recent cold snap. Nothing a warm bath and a good night of sleep won’t cure.”

“O-okay.” Will sat the plate on the kitchen island and slumped onto a stool. “Thank you for dinner. This looks superb, as always.”

The flakey meat of the fish tasted like ash.

“Thank you, Will.” Hannibal moved to the archway, leaving the kitchen behind. “Please leave your dishes to soak in the sink. I’ll attend to them in the morning.”

Will nodded and forked more ash into his mouth.

“Goodnight, Will.”

“Goodnight, Hannibal.”

* * *

Dish soaking in the sink and kitchen lights off, Will trudged upstairs. He had been so sure Hannibal would thaw past friendly formality after a grand gesture. He noted light bleeding from under the door to Hannibal’s room. The cannibal was probably waiting for Will to go to bed before he emerged to eat.

_Bastard._

Will considered knocking. Barging in and demanding that Hannibal talk to him, love him, forgive him. But Hannibal had tried that tact with Will years ago and it had been a resounding failure. They were not men of demands, but men of persuasion.

He didn’t bother turning on the light when he entered his room, just followed the trail of moonlight out to his balcony. Will had told Hannibal a balcony that joined their rooms was ridiculous the first time he saw the house.

_“Not ridiculous, Will, dramatic.” Hannibal had said with one of his cryptic smiles._

Will leaned against the stone balustrade and looked at the light bleeding from Hannibal’s glass balcony door. True, the door was closed, but the curtains were open. If he moved slowly, he might be able to see how Dr. Lecter preferred to sulk.

Inching toward the door, Will felt a thrill creep up his spine. He kept out of the light as he peeked inside.

Laying on his bed in his favorite bathrobe was Hannibal, lounging on a ridiculous number of pillows with a large sketchpad propped on his knee. The open emerald box rested against his hip. He popped one of Will’s chocolates into his mouth and continued to sketch. Across the room in Hannibal’s favorite porcelain vase was Will’s bouquet, carefully arranged and centered on Hannibal’s dresser.

_That dramatic fucking sap._

Will knew it wasn’t annoyance that surged into his chest as he grabbed the door handle and swung it open, but he could pretend it was for now. Hannibal’s mouth was agape, a small smear of chocolate dotting the corner of his lip. Will wanted nothing more than to lick it off, but he couldn’t if he wanted to win tonight’s game.

“Feeling better?” Will asked solicitously as he crossed the room and flopped on Hannibal’s bed. The cannibal subtly angled the sketch to obscure it from Will’s vision.

It almost worked.

There, on the paper was a curly haired man, face the picture of devotion, holding a swelling bouquet of peonies and roses.

Will felt like dancing.

“As I recall, I was not wearing a suit when I offered those to you.” Will murmured, staring at the sketch. Hannibal remained silent, but his cheeks seemed a shade darker than normal.

“Either way, it’s a great likeness.” Will leaned forward, eyes fixed on Hannibal’s mouth. He stopped short, dropping his eyes to select a candy from the emerald box. He made a show of nibbling it, lasciviously licking his fingers once it was consumed.

“Mmmm, these are decadent. Don’t eat too many or you’ll never get to sleep.” Will sprang from the mattress, leaving Hannibal frozen, pencil still poised above the pad. Unable to keep the smirk off his face, Will practically skipped to the open balcony. As he closed the door, he grinned at his cannibal, still a statue on the bed.

“Sweet dreams, Hannibal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, the chapter title is a reference to Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Because I'm old AND mature.


	4. Attempt 4 - Put a Ring on It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? Hannibal and Will talk about their feelings kinda? Madness! Beware: angst and crack ahead.

Will was getting really tired of his right hand. It put in a good effort every night, but at the end of the day, it simply wasn’t the hand he wanted. He had waged his campaign to end up in Hannibal’s bed for weeks now. Each night, Will ended up in his room, alone, watching RedTube for inspiration, and increasingly frustrated.

The flowers had been a good start. He had thrilled when he found a peony pressed into the pages of The Complete Poetical Works of John Keats, sitting on Hannibal’s desk. Still, Hannibal remained positively prim every time Will entered a room.

Tonight, Will was a man on a mission. Donning the midnight blue suit and lavender shirt Hannibal had bought him months ago, he picked through the plastic bag of seduction he had compiled on today’s excursion to the city. He’d gone to the market for condoms – ribbed, for his pleasure – and lube. On a whim, he picked up a cheap plastic Trojan cock ring, gleefully anticipating Hannibal’s disdainful sneer when presented with the light purple abomination.

Dropping a condom and a packet of lube into his pocket on his way to the bathroom, Will paused. Smirking, he grabbed the cock ring and tore it out of the package. He marveled at its gummy feel and chemical smell before slipping it into his pocket. 

Will moved in front of the en suite mirror and attempted to gel his hair. When his curls looked suitably slicked, he nodded at himself and headed for the kitchen.

* * *

“Will. You look magnificent.” The words coaxed a slow easy smile from Will that scrunched his scar into a dimple. This would be easier than he thought.

“Just trying to match the cook.” He ran his hand over Hannibal’s back, feeling the silk of the doctor’s waistcoat ripple under his fingers. Hannibal tilted his head.

“We shall eat presently, please take your seat.”

Dinner was a litany of small rejections. Will’s fingers were gracefully dodged when he attempted to brush them over Hannibal’s wrist. A shift of Hannibal’s legs put them out of range from Will’s feet. Intense eye contact was returned with a worried gaze and inquiries about a possible headache.

When Hannibal rose to clear the plates, Will followed. He caught the cannibal soaking the dishes in the sink.

“Dinner was incredible,” Will whispered, lips tracing the shell of Hannibal’s ear.

“Thank you, Will.” Hannibal’s tone was conversational his hands never faltered as he scrubbed.

“Anything I can do to express my appreciation?” Will cringed at his own eagerness.

“If you would finish drying the dishes, I would be obliged. I confess I’m eager to finish my book. Thank you.” Hannibal spun from Will’s lips and retreated to the living room. Will was left to stare at his half-hard cock and a pile of water-logged dishes.

 _That motherfucker._

He suffered through years of Hannibal’s seduction techniques and had the scars to prove it. Now, when he was finally ready to reciprocate, he’s dismissed like a horny teen. Whatever game they had been playing, the cannibal was going to forfeit tonight.

Trailing Hannibal to the living room, he pauses in front of the antique silver mirror Hannibal insisted completed the hallway. Refined Will had failed miserably. Perhaps it was time to remind Hannibal of the animal in Will’s breast, the snarling thing that drew the Ripper to him. He ran his hand through his hair, loosing his curls from the gel. He yanked at his tie until it was rakishly undone and popped the top three buttons of his shirt. He looked like a wild creature, feral and fierce.

Will strolled to the living room and leaned on the door frame, trying his best to look sultry. Hannibal didn’t look up from his book. Will wrapped his knuckles on door.

Still nothing.

“You know what? Enough of this shit. Do you love me?”

Hannibal looked up from his book, confused.

“You know that I do.”

“Ok, great. Next question: What type of love?”

“Will, my love for you is consuming. I feel a daily stab of hun-”

“Oh Christ, did you and Bedelia rehearse this? I’m not asking about a daily stab of hunger. I’m not the fucking munchies, Hannibal.”

“Clearly, you have an answer in mind.”

“You know what I’m asking.” Will pushed off the door frame and walked toward the doctor. Hannibal stood. He was in Will’s space, but something faltered in his expression when he met Will’s eyes.

“Drink?” Hannibal asked, already retreating. Will made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

“I’m starting to think I’ll need one.” Will followed Hannibal to the bar, resting a hand on a leather chair.

“Do you recall what happened in June?” Hannibal asked, eyes cast down.

“We killed the guy in Bogotá and I took a swan dive into his guts.” Will smiled, a savage thing that bared his teeth. It masked the cold dread that pricked at his ears. “It was a good night.”

“I will forever remember that night. Your beauty in the moonlight, your grace as you flopped face first into a pile of viscera.” Hannibal’s mouth echoed Will’s wild grin. Will closed the gap but Hannibal raised a hand. “Your repulsion as you shoved me out of the bathroom.”

Will’s face fell.

“I had a moment of panic.” Will offered, cheeks flushing.

“You locked yourself in our bathroom for seven hours, that doesn’t seem momentary to me, Will.”

“I wasn’t quite ready for the kiss.”

“The kiss you initiated.”

“It was mutual.”

“As I recall, you leaped into my arms with a barbaric yawp and bit my mouth.” Hannibal reached up to touch his lip as if the wound remained, weeks later.

“Yeah, but you caught me,” Will rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling stifled by the suit. He shrugged. “What can I say? I was excited.”

“You were very excited. Until you were not,” Hannibal’s eyes were trained on the trim of the high-backed leather recliner. “Then you barricaded yourself in the bathroom, leaving me with bitten lips and a bruised…chest.”

“So this virgin aunt act is my punishment?” Will’s voice was soft, pleading.

“This isn’t punishment, it’s hesitation.”

“Oh hell.” Will waved a hand dismissively at Hannibal, “It feels like punishment when you have me begging for a touch, a kiss.”

“You’re performance tonight is likely due to feelings of loneliness.” Hannibal’s voice was clinical, cold, and fucking irritating. “You do not have to endure physical intimacy to remain here, Will. We could find other activities that are less distasteful to you, perhaps we could finally acquire a dog? If you still believe you feel this way in a month–”

“Don’t you dare spout psychobabble to me like I’m still the scared little man with the boiling brain, Dr. Lecter,” Will hissed. “If you don’t want me, just say it.”

“I do not believe you’re confident in your physical attraction to me.” Hannibal finally looked up, his whole body had gone eerily immobile. Will took the opportunity to crowd Hannibal, forcing him past the bar into the bookshelves. He leaned in, lips centimeters from Hannibal’s.

“Grab my dick and let’s find out.” He lifted an eyebrow and smirked. He wasn’t ready for Hannibal’s hand to snatch at the curls on the back of his head and yank Will away.

“Vile, cruel thing. I will not be mocked again.” The monster snarled, all traces of Hannibal gone from the maroon eyes. Will wondered whether Hannibal would bite him. The thought went straight to his dick. He threw his left arm into Hannibal’s elbow and thrust his right arm up into Hannibal’s neck, driving the doctor into the Victorian literature section of the bookshelf.

“I’m trying to fuck you. You’re the one making this a mockery.” His teeth caught Hannibal’s lip, baring down. He relented and soothed the flesh with a gentle suck. Hannibal’s hands, which had been shoving at Will’s sides, shifted and bunched into the empath’s jacket, a shocking abuse of the fine fabric. A few stitches popped as Hannibal manhandled him into a better angle, shoving his leg between Will’s thighs.

Hannibal crashed into Will’s mouth, hands grappling at slim hips to give them both delicious friction. Will’s mind was filled with Hannibal - the taste of his tongue, the weight pressing him into the bookshelf, the maddening pressure building in his groin as he rode Hannibal’s thigh.

Will’s head was buzzing. In fact, his whole body seemed to be buzzing. It wasn’t until Hannibal froze, hand still over Will’s cock, that Will realized something was off.

Will looked down at his crotch, which was emitting a mechanical noise and vibrating harshly.

“Will, I admit it has been quite some time, but I do not recall this reaction from any previous partner,” Will heard the mirth in Hannibal’s voice and prayed for the sweet relief of death. Will kept his eyes trained on his groin. If he didn’t look up, none of this was real.

He snapped out of his fugue state when he felt Hannibal’s hand snake into his pocket. Will frantically grabbed for Hannibal’s hand, but it was too late. The good doctor held up a purple cock ring shaking furiously between his fingers.

“Please don’t speak,” Will begged. “If you love me, you’ll never speak again.”

Hannibal angled an eyebrow.

“Why Will,” The bastard fluttered his eyelashes. “Were you going to give me a ring?”

“I wasn’t…that was supposed to…Jesus, can you at least turn the fucking thing off?”

With a flick of his thumb, Hannibal silenced the buzzing. To Will’s horror, Hannibal hooked the purple plastic onto his ring finger and gave the empath a toothy smile.

“It’s either too big or too small, depending on your intentions.”

“You know what? You win. I don’t want to have sex. Maybe ever again, certainly not with you.” Will moved to brush past Hannibal, face aflame and body still jittering from his swiftly dropping arousal. Hannibal grabbed Will’s wrist, jerking him to his chest. Will struggled, but knew the effort was futile. He trained his eyes on Hannibal’s throat and waited to be dismissed.

“Will, look at me.” Cheeks still throbbing from his embarrassment, Will slowly raised his eyes to meet the cannibal’s. There was no mocking to be found in the maroon orbs, only affection. “I know you had grand plans tonight, and they probably didn’t involve whirring noises emanating from your pants.”

Will huffed out an annoyed breath, but his mouth tilted up in the corner. Hannibal kissed it softly. Will felt lightheaded at the press. He swooped in, mouth seeking the lips he had been dreaming about for weeks. Hannibal gently dodged Will’s questing mouth, shifting to put distance between himself and the empath.

“I see tonight as a marvelous first step. You seem to be embracing your attraction to me, and I welcome the exploration of our physical relationship.”

Will rolled his eyes.

“Do you have to be so fucking formal? Should I talk to your father about courting you?”

“I’m afraid he’s unavailable. I, however, would be happy to ask for Uncle Jack’s permission, if it would make you comfortable.” The doctor offered a sly smile. Will laughed as Hannibal released his hold, gently brushing his hands down Will’s arms. Their fingers entwined.

“You know I love you, right?” Will murmured, ducking his eyes and squeezing Hannibal’s fingers.

“I do know,” Hannibal confirmed, moving slightly. Will felt something press into his hand. “Though I was unaware of your sexual proclivity for vibrating toys. Had I known, I would have stocked up on batteries when I went to town.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Not with that attitude.” Hannibal winked and breezed out of the room, leaving Will open-mouthed, clutching a purple cock ring.


	5. Attempt 5 - Mood Lighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will makes a bold move and things heat up.

For a cannibalistic serial killer, Hannibal Lecter was actually fairly predictable. He woke up before the sun every morning, ran three miles, performed a calisthenics workout that Will still didn’t fully understand, showered, and started the day. Every evening, Hannibal would prepare dinner, read by the fire with a glass of wine, and take a bath that lasted well over an hour.

After, Hannibal would wander out onto their shared balcony in a fluffy robe, hair falling over his eyes and strong solid chest peeking beneath the _v_ of his robe - looking like a present to be unwrapped. Hannibal would knock lightly on Will’s door, framed in the moonlight, like a vampire seeking a vein, and Will would all but run to the balcony to fling open the door and welcome him inside. Sitting on Will’s bed, Hannibal would run his hand through Will’s curls, draw the empath to nestle into the robe, and softly discuss plans for the next day. Occasionally, Hannibal would murmur into Will's ear, some little piece of news or observation, nothing of consequence. But the tone, oh the tone. It made Will's whole body feel as though it were vibrating.

That was usually when Will broke, forfeiting the game by mouthing at the doctor’s neck, or drawing his hands up the plush swell of Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal would cage his hands, and kiss Will's fingers fondly, always managing to catch the tip of a digit in a small nip. Practically panting and with a tent in his boxers, Will would watch helplessly as the doctor wished him a good evening and pressed a chaste kiss to Will's curls. Hannibal always held Will's hands until he moved from the bed, quelling any attempt to grab or grapple at him. The cannibal then egressed into the shadows like the product of some fever dream that visited Will all those years ago in Wolf Trap.

Will would be up for hours after that. Horny, pissed, and too keyed up to sleep. He would burn his energy off by planning elaborate seductions, composing and burning love notes (just in case Hannibal checked his trash), and studying the Lithuanian phrase book he had special ordered five months ago from the bookshop in town.

It was getting obnoxious, frankly; though he could now say _blue balls_ in English, Spanish, and Lithuanian. He just wanted a good night's sleep, in a nice bed, with Hannibal on top of him. Was that really so much to ask?

Tired of the nightly tease, Will decided that he could make a tableau of his own to impress his hesitant cannibal. Will knew the best time to strike was during Hannibal’s evening ablutions. So he gathered every candle in the house and waited.

As soon as he heard Hannibal enter the en suite, Will stripped off all his clothes and crept onto the balcony. The bathroom door was closed, water running. Will had about an hour to set up.

He threw Hannibal’s balcony door open, letting the warm night air fill the room. Will began placing candles around the door, framing the night with a glowing amber light. It took longer than he anticipated to light all the candles, he decided to change his design. Instead of filling the room with soft glow, he’d illuminate the balcony like an altar. He put the last few candles right by the balcony curtains making them glow invitingly, and stood back, smoke and sweet fragrances communed with the night air, making every breath seem spicy. Hannibal would love it.

Lighting and background perfect, Will moved to Hannibal’s pristine bed in the center of the room. To complete his design, Will would lay out on the bed, a willing offering on Hannibal Lecter’s altar.

Will settled upon the mattress, fussing with body positioning. He decided to copy some of the sketches he’d seen Hannibal do of Greek myths. Propping himself up on pillows, he stretched out languidly on the bed, trying to elongate his form. Raising one knee to better frame his groin, Will reclined his head on one arm, trying to look coquettish as he began to slowly stroke his dick.

A warm breeze blew over his body as he continued to stroke. He felt a surge of confidence. There was no way Hannibal could refuse the feast laid out before him.

The room smelled of jasmine, sandalwood, and burning cotton.

_Wait. What?_

Will followed his nose to the odor and blanched. The warm winds had blown the wispy balcony curtains over the candles, igniting them. Hannibal loved those curtains. He had spent hours selecting the exact pattern in the exact shade that matched his duvet. And now, Will watched helplessly as flames climbed the expensive fabric.

He launched himself off the bed, dick bouncing angrily as he ran toward the flames. Will ripped the curtains from the rod over the balcony, but the force of his actions toppled the whole window treatment and knocked over several other candles. The heat from the growing inferno warmed Will’s bare ass as the empath tried desperately not to panic. He frantically moved the cloth and candles, until he had one lumpy pile of fire right in front of the balcony door. He had to stop the flames before they caught the carpet and took over the room.

He needed water, but he couldn’t bring himself to knock on the bathroom door and ask Hannibal if he could borrow a cup of bathwater. What the fuck was he going to do?

_Smother the flames. I have to smother them._

Will ran to the bed and grabbed Hannibal’s Egyptian cotton duvet, ripping it from under the plush pillows. He attacked the small fabric bonfire he had created with abandon, thrashing the duvet at the flames and trying to smother the mess.

That’s how Hannibal found Will: Naked and still half-hard, wailing on a flaming pile of drapes with a $900 duvet. Will was stifling the last bits of flame when he noticed Hannibal. The doctor’s mouth was hanging open, the bathroom doorframe seemed to be the only thing keeping him upright.

“I can explain. The candles, I didn’t think about the wind. I —”

Hannibal snapped out of his daze and pressed his lips into a firm line. Keeping eye contact with Will, he took a step back into the bathroom and shut the door.

Will starred at the closed door for a moment. He took a few minutes to blow out the rest of the candles and lay the half-burned duvet back on Hannibal’s bed before slinking out the balcony and back to his room.

When Will woke the next morning, still smelling of singed cotton and disappointment, he found a book next to him on the pillow. An immaculate leather-bound copy of _The Complete Poetical Works of John Keats_ , Will ran a hand over the embossed lettering before he noticed the note, ensconced in the book next to a pressed peony.

      _Darling Will,_

_When wooing with the great classics, please know that my linens and I would prefer you draw inspiration from the works of Keats rather than recreate scenes from Jane Eyre._

_My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you. I also cannot breathe without air, so please refrain from setting more fires._

_All My Love,_

_HL_

Will clutched the note to his chest and laughed.


	6. Attempt 6 - Romantic Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will makes dinner. Hannibal makes a gesture. Both go about as expected.

Dinner had been ready for two hours. Will was pretty sure that the roast, taken from a woman who had tried to lift his wallet, was as hard as shoe leather by now. He’d find out when Hannibal came home, since he fully intended to beat the good doctor to death with the ruined fruits of his labor. He left the roast in the oven, hoping the smell of ruined meat would haunt the kitchen for weeks.

He was three whiskeys in, and Hannibal’s death was getting bloodier with every sip. Will had spent hours picking out the perfect recipe, deciphering Hannibal’s stupid flowery cursive, and figuring out what the fuck julienne meant. He had burned his hand and elbow. Somehow the gravy had exploded in his face, a hail of meat bits and goo clinging to his hair and glasses. He could still smell rendered meat and flour in his hair.

His tie had been abandoned an hour ago. The jacket was slung carelessly over a chair in the dining room. The Ferragamos Hannibal had selected for him had been kicked into the corner of the kitchen, Will hoped they scuffed. He was contemplating going upstairs to change into the cargo shorts Hannibal hated when he heard the front door open.

Will seethed and grabbed for the nearest weapon, which happened to be a gravy stained kitchen towel. He was ready to strike when he heard the clicking sound of nails on the hardwood floors. His mouth dropped as the sound got closer.

_That’s funny, I’m almost positive Hannibal doesn’t have four legs._

The dog came around the corner and stopped, clearly surprised to find another person in his new house. A lumbering brown thing, it had matted, wet fur, a big square head, and mud caked paws. It might have been a mastiff or a boxer, maybe some bastardized mutt version of both. Neither Will nor the dog knew quite what to do. Will took a chance and dropped to his knees. The dog galumphed to him wagging its tail.

It didn’t take long for the dog to scent Will’s gravy conditioner and when Hannibal finally came into the kitchen, he found the empath sprawled on the floor laughing while the dog lapped at his head. The doctor looked nearly as muddy as the dog and was dripping a small puddle around him. His linen suit was torn, brown smears ruining what wasn’t rended.

“I’m going to go shower and burn these clothes, when I come back down, I may kill that thing.”

“You bought me a dog?” Will asked trying to move the massive creature off his head and failing miserably.

"I did not buy you a dog, I rescued a dog for you since I am aware of your proclivities for pathetic abandoned creatures. How I wish I had let this thing parish in the gully by the side road and simply visited the pet store." Hannibal plucked at a tattered sleeve. "I'm not wholly convinced it is a dog. The way the beast fought to remain drowning in the ravine it may be a distressed capybara."

Hannibal turned on his heel, which sloshed slightly. He wasn't fast enough. Will grabbed Hannibal's hand and yanked, pulling himself up to meet the doctor. Whatever protest Hannibal was about to make was swallowed by Will's eager mouth. Hannibal didn't react until Will began to stroke his tongue over the cannibal's Cupid's bow – a move Will had recently discovered melted the cannibal's iron resolve about 80% of the time. With a quiet noise, Hannibal began sucking on Will's tongue, his fingers trailing down Will's waist and snatching handfuls of his ass. 

"He was probably terrified. Who wouldn't be with Hannibal 'the cannibal' Lecter coming after them?" Will's joke landed with a thud and Hannibal's mouth formed a moue, his hands releasing the empath. Will laughed and kissed him again. He found that Hannibal could be a very forgiving man when there was a warm wiggling body and eager lips pressed against him. Will was just about to suggest they get Hannibal out of his wet clothes when something slammed into his back.

The force of the blow caused Will to bite down in surprise, Hannibal's tongue taking the brunt of the snap. Hannibal hissed into Will's mouth shoving to disengage himself from the clinch. Whatever was on Will's back was now pawing at him, and he realized belatedly that the dog had decided to help Will keep Hannibal pinned to the kitchen wall. Hannibal dislodged Will with a glare, only to have his arms filled with a barking mutt. With a lightning fast arm, Hannibal grasped the scruff of the dog's neck and yanked.

The dog gave a surprised yelp before it was released and scurried to the security of Will. It peered at Hannibal from behind the empath's thighs, its giant body poorly hidden.

"Take it, bathe it, and perhaps I will not kill it tonight."

"Hannibal, he's just-"

Hannibal held up a hand.

"I don't care, Will. In the last five hours, it has torn my favorite suit, eaten a $600 tie, attacked me multiple times and interrupted a promising start to the evening. If it was a man, it would be dinner by now. It is only my compassion for you, which is at the moment excessively inconvenient, that has stayed my hand."

With that, Hannibal stomped out of the room, squishing with every step. Will looked behind his legs at the dog.

"I wouldn't worry too much. He gets really fussy when you mess up his clothes." Will offered his hand for a slurp. "But, um, let's get you cleaned up and maybe give you a pretentious name, just to be safe."

Bathing a dog that easily weighed 80 lbs took a lot of energy out of Will. The great beast thrashed and fought the soap and spray, though he seemed very apologetic about it once Will was drying him off. He had decided to name the mutt Paris, for the Trojan who felled Achilles, and hoped Hannibal would see the humor. He released the dog into the house and jumped into the shower, ready to rid himself of the mud, fur, and dog spit that seemed to cling to his head and hands.

* * *

Will found Hannibal in the library, wearing another suit in spite of the late hour. Will felt almost illicit by comparison, wearing only cotton sleep pants, a thin undershirt, his curls dripping small iridescent circles on the shoulders. The damp dog stretched out by the doctor's feet on the hand-stitched dog bed Hannibal must have retrieved from the hall closet. Will noted that a fire was going and wondered if Hannibal had started it for himself of the dog.

“Well, I suppose Jack is a dog after all,” said Hannibal, nose buried in a volume of Virgil. "If the smell is anything to go by."

“Jack?” Will collapsed on the couch next to Hannibal, earning him a reproving glare before Hannibal returned to his book.

“He’s big, protective of you, and attempted to tear us apart. It seemed appropriate.” As if to prove Hannibal’s point, Jack scrabbled up from the floor and attempted to crawl between Will and Hannibal on the sofa. Will pushed out a foot to block the dog’s path.

“No Jack! Down!” Will stayed stern, though he dearly wanted to laugh as Hannibal sneered at the interloper. Eventually the dog gave up, flopping on his side with a mighty sigh.

“In case you were wondering, I deeply regret the last 12 hours of my life,” Hannibal muttered.

Will leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Hannibal’s mouth, earning a disgruntled noise even as Hannibal leaned into the touch.

“That’s funny, I was just thinking that I’ve never been this happy.”

Hannibal’s lip worked, not quite ready to smile.

"In that case, Jack may survive the night."

Will beamed. He grabbed Hannibal's book and tossed it to the end table, careful not to damage the spine. He straddled the good doctor, grinding his hips down.

"Shall I show you just how grateful I am, Dr. Lecter?" Will batted his eyes and Hannibal could no longer hold his smile at bay. To Will's utter joy, Hannibal didn't push him away with more entreaties about taking it slow. Long fingers sunk into Will's hips, guiding them in a rocking movement. The doctor’s mouth latched onto Will’s neck, just below his ear, tongue tracing the rivulets of water left by the empath’s curls. Will was a mess of moans and wiggles. Hannibal was annoyingly composed, though Will did note the stiff cock now rubbing against his own. Things were just getting interesting when Hannibal froze. Will whined, rolling his hips and encouraging Hannibal to resume his attentions.

"What type of shampoo did you use on that dog?" Hannibal asked, scenting the air. "It smells like...burning meat."

"Oh shit! I maybe forgot about the oven."

Will yelped as he was unceremoniously dropped on his ass, Hannibal running with frightening speed toward his precious domain. Will and Jack crawled toward the library door, where they could clearly see heavy smoke pluming out of the kitchen. Loud metallic bangs were punctuated by Lithuanian cursing. Will was still working on his command of the language, hoping to surprise Hannibal at some point, but he picked out the phrase ' _blue-eyed demon_ ' in his love's rant.

"WILL!" Hannibal roared. "What have you done to my All-Clad?"

Will didn't know what an allclad was, but he was pretty sure it was ruined judging from Hannibal's tone. He looked at Jack, who nosed him sympathetically.

"I think we should go to bed. Don't you?"

"Woof."

* * *

Will woke alone. While that was familiar sensation at this point, he couldn't shake the notion that something was missing from his bed.

_Jack._

There was still a small puddle of drool at the foot of Will's bed, but no giant brown head crushing his shins.

Will whistled - nothing.

_Shit._

"Jack! Jack? Here buddy." Will didn't bother putting a shirt on, running downstairs in his sleep pants. He found Hannibal in the kitchen, sipping coffee, and looking smug.

"What did you do? Please tell me I still have a dog." Will was working hard to keep his voice as close to neutral as possible. Hannibal lifted his mug, indicating the corner of the kitchen.

There was Jack, blithely gnawing on Will's favorite pair of boots. The muddy, beaten up boots that Hannibal loathed. Jack looked up, half of a sole hanging from his jowl. Will turned and glared at Hannibal.

"This is petty, even for you."

"Will, my kitchen smells of charred flesh, I was up until 4 scrubbing the oven and my abused pans, there was what I can only assume to be gravy on the ceiling, and I had to part with one of the nicest winter suits in my wardrobe." He took a sip of coffee. "I'm afraid I just don't have the energy to defend your hideous footwear from dear Jack."

"You know, I made that dinner for you," Will sulked. "It was going to be romantic!"

"Oh it was, Will. I can't tell you how often I thought of you as I scrubbed last night." Hannibal held out a mug of coffee. Will glared, but took the offering. He watched Jack lick the treads of the other boot, squinting at the odd looking mud between the rubber ridges.

"For Christ sake, is that peanut butter?"

Hannibal drained his coffee and rested his mug in the sink.

"How should I know? You never clean them as I've asked you to, repeatedly. Any number of substances could be on them."

"So he went from my dog to your hellhound in the span of a few hours?"

"You'd be amazed what peanut butter will do to canine loyalty." Hannibal set a brisk pace as he walked out of the kitchen. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Jack and I have an appointment with your flannels."

When he reached the steps, he whistled sharply. Will almost dropped his mug when Jack released the boot and ran after the cannibal.

"Hannibal? You were kidding, right? Hannibal?"


	7. Attempt 7 - Shots! Shots! Shots!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, you knew it would come to this eventually. Hannibal and Will get drunk...

“Will, this is childish.”

“Yes, yes it is,” said Will, lofting the bottle of José Cuervo, the official sponsor of Will's college years. “But it’s also fun. And I believe you said I needed to up my seduction game.”

“Inebriation is not a seduction technique. In fact, I believe it can be viewed as criminal if –”

“Calm down. No one is going to take advantage of your virtue, Dr. Lecter.” Will poured double shots. “I just thought we could get a little drunk and get to know each other better. Plus, at your age, you probably get whiskey dick.”

Hannibal sneered mildly at the language.

“This is tequila.”

“Same principle.” Will held out a glass.

“I’m unfamiliar with this charming concept.” Hannibal looked at the drink like it was a bug. Sighing he took the proffered glass and downed it, wincing.

“Whoa, boy! You keep downing it like that, and you’ll experience the concept. Let’s just table the whiskey dick discussion for another few rounds, OK?” Will refilled Hannibal’s glass and drained his own.

“Why are we doing this again?”

“My daddy always said _You never know a man ‘til you’ve seen him shitfaced._ I figure we should probably try to get to know each other a little better,” Will said.

“What a delightful motto. I do hope it was embroidered on a pillow in your home somewhere.” Hannibal gulped his tequila, his sneer noticeably smaller. Will forced himself to keep his expression neutral.

In truth, Will had always thought a drunk Hannibal sounded terrifying, since his sobriety often seemed to be the only thing keeping him from stabbing everyone he met. And Will had been there, done that. He was looking for a different type of penetration now.

Then, last week, Hannibal had finished a bottle of wine by himself. After, he curled on the settee with Will, Jack wrapped around his feet. Will noticed a loosening of his cannibal. Affection was easier and just a little sloppy. Smiles slipped from the tightly controlled mouth more frequently. Hands that stayed resolutely above Will’s belt were suddenly taking passing visits to Groin County USA. It was an amazing night until Jack, stupid cock blocking Jack, horked up the remnants of what appeared to be a lizard on Hannibal’s 300 year old carpet. Nothing seemed to sober up Hannibal quite like a threat to his décor. Stupid dog. 

Will had decided that night that he wanted to see what Hannibal was like well and truly drunk. His goal for the evening wasn’t so much seduction as getting Hannibal to act like a human, maybe even wear a synthetic fabric. If he happened to stick his tongue down Hannibal’s throat in the process, well, Will could live with that. 

“I don’t see why you’re being such a priss about this,” Will challenged. “Unless you think a few drinks will break that iron will of yours and have you pawing me like a drunken prom date.”

Hannibal sniffed, arched an eyebrow, and drained his glass again. He grabbed the bottle from Will, poured another double and brought it to his lips. The doctor paused.

“Are there limes? Or shall I cut some?”

Will’s face stretched into a broad grin.

* * *

“HEY!” Will said, slapping Hannibal on the side, making the doctor weave unsteadily on his feet. “We should do body shots!”

Hannibal’s face scrunched.

“I do not like shooting people. It’s inelegant.” Hannibal grabbed the Cuervo from Will’s hand. He smiled before taking a long pull directly from the bottle.

_Yup, he’s an insufferable snob even when he’s shitfaced._

Will smiled fondly at Hannibal’s loose posture and uncontrolled movements, still graceful, but just a little wild.

“No bloodshed tonight, Dr. Lecter,” at this Hannibal puffed out his lip like a toddler and Will guffawed. “This is a drinking game.”

“How interesting.”

Will tried to climb onto the kitchen island, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate. After his third attempt, strong hands wrap around his hips and hoist him up. He wiggled onto the island, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to Hannibal. The cannibal attempted to catch the garment, but missed, the cloth landing on his head. Will laughed, shimmying his pants to rest low on his hips. Hannibal was still fighting with the shirt, having somehow tangled his head and free hand into the cloth.

“Do you need some help, doctor?” Will tried to keep his voice calm but the sight of the sleek alpha predator hopelessly entangled in Will’s shirt was wearing on the empath’s control.

“No. I require no *umph*” Hannibal had blindly wandered into the kitchen island. Will took the opportunity to lock his legs around Hannibal’s waist and grab the bottle of Cuervo, setting it aside. Gently, he pulled the shirt off of Hannibal, grinning at the mess of hair that emerged from the cloth. The doctor unleashed a big goofy smile when he was freed, melting Will’s heart and stiffening his cock.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal let his eyes drop down Will’s chest. “This is an excellent game. Did I win?”

_Right. The game._

Will straightened up, grabbing the Cuervo, Hannibal’s salt shaker, and the bowl of lime wedges. Hannibal’s brow furrowed as Will set each item out on the counter and laid back. Will tipped the Cuervo into the well of his belly button and Hannibal automatically reached for a napkin. Will grabbed his hand.

“No, no. Just wait. So what you do is lick the salt off my hand, suck the shot out of my belly button and bite the lime. Got it?”

“This is a game?”

“Doesn’t it seem fun?” Will’s smile was bright. Hannibal nodded emphatically. Will shook salt onto the meat of his hand between his thumb and index finger and offered it to Hannibal. He couldn’t stop the small squeak when Hannibal wrapped his lips around the flesh, and sucked with abandon. Hannibal’s eyes hooded and Will felt the doctor’s tongue stroke out over the sensitive flesh.

Will made a choking noise as Hannibal released his hand and dove toward his prone chest, licking a long stripe from Will’s nipple to his belly button. When he felt Hannibal begin to suck, all the blood left Will’s brain to pool in his groin. His moan turned into a yelp when he felt sharp teeth dig into his flesh.

“Jesus! Did you bite me? Do I look like a lime?” Will examined the perfect teeth marks already purpling just above his belly button, a beauty mark to match the smile Hannibal had already carved there.

Hannibal shrugged.

“I am a cannibual…cannibalala….” Hannibal pushed his lips up, trying to get the word out. “Connubial?”

Hannibal started giggling and waves his hand dismissively. “Fuck it, I eat people.”

Will stared, mouth agape. Hannibal looked at him, confused.

“Did I win the game?” Hannibal tried to lean casually on the island, but swayed and collapsed off the side. Jack lumbered over to the fallen cannibal, taking the opportunity to lick bits of lime and alcohol from his fingers. Will burst out laughing, but stopped when he noticed Hannibal wasn’t moving.

“Hannibal? Shit. Hannibal!” He jumped off the island, his own wobbly legs refusing to hold him. He collapsed inelegantly on top of Hannibal, drawing a wheeze from the prone doctor. Jack huffed an excited bark now that both of his daddies were on the floor. Will shoved at the massive beast, trying to assess the body on the floor. “Hannibal. Come on, love, talk to me.”

Will helped the cannibal turn over. His right eye was already swelling, Will noted, drawing a light finger over the area. Drunk, bruised, and headed for a massive hangover, Hannibal still offered Will a smile.

“I always knew you would be the death of me, Will. I just thought you’d break my heart, not my skull.” He started to laugh hysterically. Will smiled softly and pressed a kiss to his love’s unmarred cheek. The kiss turned wet, mostly because Jack had nosed his way in, licking at both men's faces. Will knew Hannibal was well and truly blotto when the doctor gave the dog an affectionate peck on the nose.

“You’re an idiot. My idiot, and you’ll never get rid of me now that I know you’re such a lightweight,” Will whispered. 

Hannibal’s eyes softened as his mouth stretched wide. Will ignored the dog slobber and kissed him again, a soft promise. Hannibal raised a hand to caress Will’s cheek, but his liquor-loose limb landed with a hard thunk on Will’s face. Will snorted and wormed his arm under Hannibal’s back. Using Jack for leverage, he stumbled to his feet. “Come on, Dr. Cuervo. Let’s get you to bed. Tomorrow is not going to be fun for you.”

“Will you stay with me?” Hannibal asked, still pliant in Will’s arms. The empath pressed his lips into Hannibal’s shoulder as he struggled to get the doctor upright. "Please stay. I feel better when you're near."

“You’re sappy when you’re drunk.” Will whispered into Hannibal’s hair as he adjusted his grip. “Let’s go to bed, love. I’ll make you all the promises you want when you’re sober enough to remember them.”


	8. Attempt 8 - Playing Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are pretty hungover, so I'm going to give them a chapter of tooth-rotting fluff to rest and recover.

Will woke with a fuzzy head, a pain in his neck, and a persistent twitch behind his eye. Not the worst night he’d ever had, but his tongue was glued to the top of his mouth and a weird high-pitched noise rang in his ears. It took him a moment to realize the noise, more of a whine really, was coming from the man next to him.

Next to him.

He and Hannibal had spent a drunken night in bed together. If the love bites on his neck and chest were anything to go by, it had been a hell of a night.

_Goddamn it._

He had promised Hannibal that this wouldn't happen. He felt like a shit until he noticed his boxers were still on. 

Will sat up, to inspect his cannibal. Lifting up the sheets, Will found black boxer briefs instead of a bare ass. Will felt massively relieved, yet incredibly disappointed that they had managed to preserve their collective virtue.

"Will! Please stop shaking the bed so." Hannibal's voice was muffled by his pillow, his face pressed firmly into the goose down. Shirtless, sweaty, and probably about 5 minutes away from vomiting, Hannibal had absolutely no right to look so fuckable. Will ran his hand lightly over the Verger brand.

"Are you-"

"Will, please. If you insist on screaming I'll have to ask you to leave."

"So...you're going to be fun today."

A moan was all the reply Will was going to get. The empath got up, noticing Jack positioned by Hannibal's side of the bed. The dog nosed Hannibal's dangling hand, and when he received no scratches, shook indignantly. The resulting droplets of slobber painted Hannibal's arm.

"Will!" The doctor was near hysteria.

"Alright! Alright! I'll get the dog, who's only crime is apparently terrible taste in men." Will walked around the bed and grabbed Jack by the scruff to lead him out. A soft hand clamping on his thigh stopped his progress.

"Will, when you get to the kitchen, please collect the butcher knife and return to kill me." Hannibal pleaded.

"If you think I'm doing laundry today because you couldn't tough it out through one hangover, you're crazier than Chilton's testimony claimed." Will watched Hannibal. His brave, strong, deadly clever cannibal – the man who tore his gut wound dragging Will from the ocean with nary a moan or groan – was a shattered little teacup this morning. Will tried to find Hannibal's sudden weakness annoying, but he had never been any good at crushing wounded things. Instead, he drew soft fingertips over Hannibal's clammy back and spoke in a soothing whisper. "You're hungover, OK? It happens. Let's not get dramatic. Well, more dramatic than usual."

Hannibal turned to squint a swollen eye at Will.

"You could use the coffee pot to bash my head in."

Will leaned in and kissed him just below the shiner that had developed overnight.

"I would never do that," he whispered. "I'd have nothing to make coffee in."

Hannibal's groans followed him down the hallway.

Will threw together a light meal of toast, tea, and pineapple juice. Jack danced at his feet, woofing. Will shushed the lunk-head, hoping the barks hadn't travelled up the stairs. He fed Jack and let him out for a brief run before returning to Hannibal, hoping that would keep their big-footed wonder quiet.

When Will ventured into the bedroom he nearly dropped the tray trying to stifle his laughter. The doctor had managed to move slightly in his absence. He had forsaken his prone pose for a more dramatic tableau of drunken suffering. Now laying on his back with an arm cast over his eyes, the other dangling limply over the side of the bed, and the sheet riding low on his hips, he looked like a Greek sculpture of a man facing Medusa. Will wanted to run his hand over the grey hair on Hannibal's heaving chest.

Ok, maybe he wanted to run his tongue over it.

Shaking his head slightly, Will adjusted his grip on the tray.

"Come on, drama llama, time to hydrate." Hannibal peaked at him from under his arm. Will sat the tray beside him and held out the juice. "Drink up, Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal's sensitive nose caught the sticky sweet scent of the pineapple. His stomach lodged a bitter protest before sending its contents upwards in a fit of pique. Will was impressed that Hannibal's reflexes were functional, watching as the cannibal jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom with astonishing speed.

"So...no toast, then?" Will called over the retching sounds.

There was a pause before the bathroom door slammed. Will sat on the bed, nibbling toast.

* * *

Hannibal emerged from the shower feeling horrible, which was an appreciable upgrade from the morning. Walking thick-limbed into the bedroom, he spotted a tall glass of water on the nightstand. His red sweater and a pair of silk sleep pants were laid out for him on the bed. A note, written on the back of a dry cleaning receipt, rested on the pile.

_Don't you dare put on real clothes. Real clothes are for people with working livers. Hydrate, then get dressed – or don't. Come find me in the library when you're ready._

Not exactly the words of Robert Browning, and his stationery choices needed some guidance, but overall, a rather sweet effort from his Will. Hannibal gulped the water and changed quickly. He took the note to his dresser, pulling out a small wooden box from the bottom of his top drawer. He stored the note next to a pressed peony and white rose, a torn scrap of his burned duvet, the knife Will used to open Dolarhyde's stomach, and a stack of murder husbands printouts from _TattleCrime_. He safely stored his treasures back behind his silk suit socks before searching for the empath.

The library was warm and inviting. Jack laid by the fire, looking like he had melted into his dog bed as he slept. Will was sprawled out on the sofa in boxers and an old t-shirt. His bare feet were resting on the silk upholstery, rough calluses catching the fabric as he slid them up and down. Normally, Hannibal wouldn't stand for that type of furniture abuse, but he was feeling weak and his condition was not helped by a rush of blood going from his head to his groin as he watched Will's lean legs work.

Will sat up when he noticed Hannibal leaning in the doorway.

"Hey! There's my favorite drunk. How ya feeling, slugger?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"Mock is such an ugly word. Let's go with tease."

"I've killed men for less."

"Ah, but you weren't hungover, were you? All I have to do is hold out some pineapple juice and you're a dead man," Hannibal's face crumpled slightly and his stomach lurched. Will held up an appeasing hand. "Plus, if you kill me, you won't get your very own personalized hangover cure."

Hannibal rested his head against the doorjamb, it was far too heavy to hold up any longer.

"You've devised a hangover cure specifically for me? Why can I not use your hangover cure?"

“Well, my typical cure for a hangover involves a Whataburger burger dripping with grease and fries dipped in mayo.”

“Will, if you’re going to induce vomiting, allow me to move off the rug.”

“How is it possible for you to be that dramatic all the time? Isn’t that exhausting?”

“Aš tik išnaudotos, kai turiu elgtis su jumis,” Hannibal muttered darkly. Will laughed, and considered responding in Lithuanian, but he wasn’t sure his fragile little people eater could handle the surprise right now. 

“Stop grumbling. You sound like a Lithuanian bear. Is that anyway for a dignified cannibal to act?”

The look Will earned would have struck fear into a lesser man. Will rolled his eyes and patted the cushion, smiling as Hannibal obediently sat on the sofa. Will patted his leg and a raised eyebrow. Stiffly, Hannibal toppled sideways, resting his head on Will’s thigh. Will ran a firm hand through Hannibal’s hair, fingers massaging as he pet the doctor. Hannibal melted, body going limp and languid as Will worked through his scalp.

“As I was saying, I had to think about a hangover cure for you, I couldn't just give you some Gatorade and call it a day. But I believe I have found something sufficiently boring, yet ridiculously snooty.”

Hannibal stiffened, brows furrowing. He opened his mouth, but Will quickly laid a hand over it.

“You are ruining my plan. My plan, by the way, involves you being silent and me petting you. Don’t you like that plan?”

Hannibal closed his mouth, gently nipping at the pad of Will’s thumb.

“I’m going to take that as a yes, but when you’re feeling better, we’re going to need to have a serious talk about your biting...and how hot it is.” 

Hannibal smiled and clicked his teeth. Will resumed his ministrations, waiting for Hannibal to relax again. When Hannibal’s breathing was even and steady, Will reached for the book on the end table. He opened it up to the page that had been marked with a pressed peony.

In a soft, sandpaper voice Will began to read:

_I cry your mercy—pity—love!—aye, love!_

_Merciful love that tantalizes not,_

_One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,_

_Unmasked, and being seen—without a blot!_

_O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!_

_That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest_

_Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,_

_That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,_

_Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all,_

_Withhold no atom’s atom or I die_

_Or living on perhaps, your wretched thrall,_

_Forget, in the mist of idle misery,_

_Life’s purposes,—the palate of my mind_

_Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!_

When Will looked down, Hannibal was gently snoring, nose buried in the crease of Will’s hip. Will ran his hand through Hannibal's hair one more time before gently lifting it to get off the couch.

"Miegoti gerai, mano meile," Will whispered into Hannibal's hair as he placed the volume of Keats on Hannibal's chest to keep him company while he slumbered.

"Send him my way when he wakes up, ok?" Will told Jack, who snored in response. He would have liked to stay and hold Hannibal a little longer, but Will had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations (from google translate, so you know, probably not):**
> 
>  
> 
> Aš tik išnaudotos, kai turiu elgtis su jumis - I’m only exhausted when I deal with you.
> 
> Miegoti gerai, mano meile - Sleep well, my love
> 
> *The poem is from Keats, because what else would Will read to his favorite ankle biter?


	9. Attempt 9 - A Decent Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will tries honesty...and Hannibal ends the game.

Hannibal woke alone on the sofa, the volume of Keats propped on his chest and Jack’s wet nose pressing into the bruise on his cheek. The headache had gone, but he felt oddly cold without the warmth of Will’s body. He shoved Jack away gently, taking a moment to scratch his ear as he eased the dog back. He looked around for a mop of brown curls, but only found an empty room and a dying fire. Will seemed to have abandoned Hannibal for bed, the doctor tried not to let Will’s absence twist in his chest. Snuffing the rest of the flames and stirring the ash, Hannibal regarded the dog. Jack flopped back on his bed, emitting a tired, pitiful groan.

“I’m sorry he left you down here, but there’s no need for dramatics,” Hannibal chided, before leaving the beast and heading upstairs.

Pausing in front of Will’s room, Hannibal toyed with the idea of knocking. He could have claimed that Jack wanted in the room, but the traitor dog hadn’t bothered following him. Hannibal was tiring of this game of cat and mouse, tired of pretending that he was anything other than an acolyte, happy to spend his days at Will’s feet. Perhaps he should face the inevitable and beg Will for whatever temporary attention the empath was willing to bestow. But Will hated Hannibal’s humanity, he shoved it away in favor of the monster’s cruelty every time. The only way he could hope to keep Will was by refusing him. That sobering thought stayed Hannibal’s hand. He could live a life of denial, but not a life without Will by his side. 

The sound of movements in his room caught the doctor’s attention, he smiled. Apparently Will hadn’t abandoned him for bed. Was Will moving furniture? He shuddered, wondering what overly elaborate scene awaited him once he opened the door.

* * *

No flower petals, no wine, and – thank god – no flammables. Just Will, in his boxers and a baggy Wolf Trap Animal Rescue t-shirt, quietly shoving folded shirts into Hannibal’s dresser.

“You’re going to need to buy another armoire, there’s no way I can get my stuff in there without ruffling your precious suits,” Will’s tone was conversational as he pointed at the antique in the corner. Hannibal blinked at the small wooden box sitting on top of the dresser, his mouth twitched. Will shrugged, opened another drawer and began shoving his worn gym socks in next to Hannibal’s silk suit socks. Hannibal offered a curl of his lip and an amused tone.

“This is certainly the most unique of your seduction gambits.”

“Oh, I’m done with the seduction thing.”

“I see.”

Will watched Hannibal carefully. The slight firming of his lips and hardening behind his eyes were the only clues of how disappointed the cannibal was.

“I’m not sure you do. Here’s the thing: seduction is a short-term goal and I’m playing a long-term game. I don’t want to ply you with wine and flowers and hope you’ll let me in your bed for the night. If I was after a quick fuck, I could get one.” Hannibal’s hand twitched slightly, making Will smile. The empath gently put the small wooden box back into the dresser before abandoning the drawers. He sauntered across the room, and flopped on Hannibal’s bed like he owned it. “I want you to understand that this isn’t your bed, it’s ours. I think it has been for quite some time, I was just too stupid to see that.”

“You want to switch rooms?” Hannibal’s lips held the ghost of a smile. Will rolled his eyes and held out his hand. 

“No. I want my boyfriend to quick cock-teasing and come to bed. We’ve wasted quite enough time, don’t you think?” Hannibal took a step toward Will automatically, then stilled, something warring behind his eyes. Will held his ground, noting that uncertainty looked rather charming on the ever-confident Dr. Lecter.

“Hannibal, I can’t prove I won’t push you away unless you come closer. Everything you’ve done for us, to get us here, to make me see – you’ve won. You’ve got me. You’ve got us. Don’t lose that beautiful nerve now. Be brave for another few steps, love.” Hannibal’s lips parted and for a moment, the world’s scariest serial killer looked about 14 years old and terrified. Will felt cold fingers of doubt dig into his chest as he watched the man he loved decide their fate.

A blur of movement and Will was pinned to the bed, lips devouring the soft skin of his neck. Hannibal was an inelegant mess, writhing on Will’s hips and sucking noisily on the empath’s jugular. His hands tore at Will’s t-shirt, trying to claw away the barrier between them. Even under the considerable weight of his cannibal, Will felt light, as if whatever cold dark dread had inhabited him for the past months had finally fled his chest. Carding his hands through Hannibal’s hair, Will pulled the doctor back, forcing eye contact. 

“Thank you,” he whispered against Hannibal’s mouth, sliding his tongue along the pronounced Cupid’s bow.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” A benediction moaned against Hannibal’s cheek, Will pulled his cannibal back down.

Hannibal’s eyes were huge and wet, he blinked and reattached himself to Will’s face. The cannibal ran his tongue over Will’s scar, lipping the puckered flesh softly as he made his way up. Will heard the wet pull of a smile stretch next to his ear.

“My Will. My fierce, cunning boy, you honor me more than you could know. How I have dreamed of you like this. Imagined –” Hannibal lost his words as Will rolled them over, grinding hard on Hannibal’s straining cock.

“Later.” Will hissed as he rolled his hips, slotting Hannibal’s thighs between his own. His hands worked frantically trying to rid Hannibal of the sleep pants, the doctor seemingly only capable of moaning and encouragingly clawing at Will’s arms. Finally, Hannibal was free and Will leaned close, slithering up Hannibal’s chest so the cannibal’s cock felt every inch of the slide. When Will reached Hannibal’s ear, his love’s eyes were closed, mouth gaping for breath. “Later, I want you to tell me every beautiful, flowery thought in that gorgeous head. But right now, I only want to hear you calling for god, or me.”

“Will.” Little more than an exhale. Will felt his name drift across his cheek in a soft expulsion of breath. The sheer sweetness of the sound, coming from the brutal thing he captured all those years ago, made Will’s breath hitch. He pulled back, stilling Hannibal’s hands when he tried to recapture the empath.

Will slid off of Hannibal and stood. He yanked off his clothes with little finesse and jumped back into Hannibal’s arms. They had drawn this dance out too long for elegance and flare, this would be a desperate grappling of mouths and limbs. It would be beautiful.

Will tugged at Hannibal’s red sweater, pulling it over Hannibal’s head and chucking it to the floor. Hannibal looked up at Will with unguarded awe, completely at his mercy. The momentous weight of the moment, of what it meant to both of them, seeped into Will’s brain.

And he froze.

_My name is Will Graham. It’s 4:40 p.m. I’m in Buenos Aires Argentina. I’m sitting on top of a naked Hannibal Lecter._

_And I have no idea what to do._

All his work, all his bravado, and he still wasn’t sure he’d be able to satisfy his cannibal. He wanted to ravage Hannibal and to be ravaged in return, but more than that, Will wanted to worship, to bow at Hannibal’s feet, swear fealty and love. The cannibal had to understand that Will would gladly tear the world to pieces at the doctor’s command.

What was the first step? Will thought back to his hours logged on RedTube and Steve’s videos. How did they all start again?

Hannibal was watching the uncertainty play out on Will’s face. He tried to capture the empath’s mouth, but Will pressed a firm hand to Hannibal’s chest.

_Fuck it, honesty got me this far._

“I might need a little, uh, help here,” The empath forced himself to maintain eye contact, even as his shoulders slumped. Hannibal’s hands began running gentle circuits up and down Will’s arms.

“Will, I do not need this to be happy with you. Let’s get dressed and-”

Hannibal moved to gently disengage from their tangle of limbs. Will shoved Hannibal’s shoulders, pinning him with an arm across his collar bone. His free hand grabbed Hannibal’s chin.

“I’m done with this. You’re not my goddamn father. You’re not Jack Crawford. And despite what you think, you’re not fucking god.” He kissed Hannibal, teeth clicking with the force. “What you are, is my bossy fucking boyfriend and I’m getting really goddamn sick of you telling me what I want.”

Hannibal looked at Will, the hurt and confusion in his eyes reminded the empath of the first time he broke Hannibal’s heart, several lifetimes ago in a Baltimore kitchen.

“I am having trouble determining what you want.” Hannibal avoided Will’s gaze, chin still trapped in the empath’s iron grip. Will dropped his head. He had meant it as a gentle press of foreheads, but his nerves turned the gesture into a light head-butt.

“I want you, you idiot.” Will pressed his erection into Hannibal’s hip as proof. “I just don’t know what to do with you. I’ve been watching gay porn like it was a TED talk, but honestly, I still just don’t know where to start. I just…I want this to be-”

_Amazing? Life altering? So gloriously dirty that we need to replace the bed and apologize to the neighbors?_

“Traditionally, I believe pornographic encounters begin with a plumber and the cleaning of pipes,” Hannibal ventured. His eyes connected with Will’s. They burned, deep and red. Will laughed, a fragile noise in the quiet room. Hannibal tightened his grip on the empath’s arms and flipped their position, pinning Will to the bed and rolling his hips. “If you could find it in yourself to take on a new instructor, I have some very definite ideas about what to do to you.”

Will smiled, still embarrassed, but eager. He started meeting Hannibal’s thrusts with tentative rolls of his own hips. Hannibal made a slight adjustment and their cocks brushed. Will jolted, hips stuttering.

“I’m all yours, Dr. Lecter.”

The noise Hannibal made fell somewhere between a moan and a whine, Will would have to catalog it later, when he wasn’t losing his mind from the friction. The empath made a helpless sound as Hannibal trailed his tongue and teeth down the column of Will’s neck. He yanked at Hannibal’s hair, whimpering helplessly as his chest was devoured with a series of soft licks and intense, popping sucks.

Hannibal’s teeth closed gently around the empath’s nipple and tugged. Will thought he might die. He could feel Hannibal’s mouth stretch into a smile against the pebbling skin. Will couldn’t breathe, his ears were buzzing and he knew he’d have to draw air soon or risk brain death.

It was the bite that finally woke Will’s burning lungs. Crooked fangs sinking slowly into his scar, a reclaiming of the smile Hannibal had left years ago. Will gasped, drawing in huge lungfuls of air and losing all control of his voice.

“Hannibal…god…” Will’s hands still clung to Hannibal’s hair, gripping tight. The man in question looked up, mouth still worrying along Will’s scar. He released his mouthful and licked his lips.

“Yes?”

“Stop fucking around, you’re killing me.”

The smile Hannibal offered Will was predatory and utterly smug. It would have been insufferable if Will’s mind could still comprehend concepts other than the movement of Hannibal’s mouth over his skin. The cannibal moved down until he was eye level with Will’s cock and gave the head a languid lick. Will’s vision went fuzzy. The cannibal’s tongue continued to lap along the turgid flesh, laving in seemingly random patterns as Will twitched and leaked. The teasing exploration torture, just enough to make Will’s whole world throb. He squeezed his eyes shut and begged Hannibal, god, and anyone else who was listening to both stop and continue forever.

Hannibal paused, panting against Will’s wet dick. Hot breath breezing over the sensitive flesh. Hannibal watched in fascination as goosebumps spread in waves from Will’s cock, pebbling the creamy flesh of his thighs and stomach. Will’s whole body was shivering when Hannibal flicked his tongue over the leaking slit of Will’s cock. It took Will a moment to realize the wailing noise he heard was caught in his own throat.

“Look at me.” Hannibal’s lips brushed along Will’s frenulum with each word. Will struggled to lift his head, to respond, to do anything other than tremor under the weight of this tremulous euphoria. “Will, I need you to look.”

The doctor’s command cut through the haze of sex between Will’s ears. Hannibal needed to be seen, to know Will wasn’t thinking of Molly, to know this was as momentous for the empath as it was for the cannibal. Moaning from the herculean effort required of him, Will lifted his head and opened his eyes, finding Hannibal’s maroon orbs. They held the gaze, the air between them ragged with lust, love, and unspoken promises.

Hannibal smiled before tugging Will’s knees over his shoulders, enveloping the head of Will’s dick and sucking hard.

_God god god god_

Will had no idea if he was speaking aloud or not. He could only feel pressure and the glorious tight wet undulation of Hannibal’s tongue as the doctor worked him mercilessly. This was so much better than his hand. He watched Hannibal bob, voraciously taking Will to the hilt and swallowing. Each contraction of Hannibal’s throat made Will’s vision white around the edges. He was so close and the pressure was so fucking good. Steve, RedTube, and his right hand could go fuck themselves, nothing could top this feeling.

Just as Will felt his body prepare for the surge, Hannibal drew off Will’s cock, releasing him with a loud pop. The cannibal nibbled at the thigh nestled against his cheek. In that moment, Will would have burned down the world to get Hannibal’s mouth back on his dick. He made a whining noise as he wriggled his hips on the doctor’s shoulders. He didn’t care if it was pathetic, he only cared about that mouth, the mouth that had no right to be so close and yet so far from where it was needed. Hannibal met Will’s eyes, his lip curling into a snarl that made Will’s cock jerk untouched.

“Please.” Will lost the last part of the word to a small cry as Hannibal gave Will’s cock a long lick, swirling his tongue around the head. The empath’s head fell back to the mattress, utterly boneless in the face of such pleasure. Hannibal’s tongue swept over Will’s balls, the wet muscle laving the sensitive sack as it drew tight to the empath’s body. A puff of air and Will could do little more than choke on his own shivering desire. This was beyond Molly’s sweet licks and sucks, beyond even the showy moans of the RedTube performers. This was a claiming, an act of utter devotion, and Will wanted nothing more in this moment than to be owned, consumed, remade in Hannibal’s image. How had he lived so long without Hannibal’s mouth? It seemed impossible. Hannibal tonguing his cock was clearly an elemental need, like breathing. 

When Hannibal’s lips wrapped around the base of his shaft, teeth grazing slightly and sending electricity shooting through his gut, Will screamed, spurting come onto his stomach and Hannibal’s cheek. Will knew in his soul he’d never be able to move again.

“My beautiful Will,” Hannibal whispered, licking the mess from the empath’s trembling stomach as he released Will’s legs. The cannibal’s clever tongue worked its way back up Will’s chest. When he reached Will chin, some basic motor skills had been restored, allowing him to meet Hannibal’s lips with breathless kisses.

“Jesus. I never…” Will gave up. Words were entirely too hard at the moment, as was his cannibal, who’s erection rubbed against Will’s hip. Hannibal seemed happy to press small kisses into Will’s jaw, but the empath wasn’t ready to let this go. Will slapped at the nightstand drawer, groping with uncoordinated fingers for the packet of lube he had stashed there.

“Will, I’m quite content.” 

“Shut up Hannibal. Take your hand job like a man.” Will sounded drunk and giddy. This, he could do. He’d been practicing for months. Will tore open the packet and squeezed the lube onto his fingers. He wrapped his hand tentatively around Hannibal’s cock and pumped, taking a moment to gently push at the doctor’s delicate foreskin and graze a thumb over the exposed head. Hannibal moaned softly into Will’s ear.

“I…um, I only know how I like it. So, uh, if you want to show me how you,” Will could feel the heat in his face. Hannibal kissed him soundly before snaking a hand in between their bodies. He tightened Will’s grip and began to roll his hips into the strokes.

“Will. Will. Will.” Hannibal looked utterly lost to the sensation as he fucked into Will’s clenched fingers. Will pressed small kisses onto Hannibal’s shoulders and jaw, one for each thrust. His free hand ran down Hannibal’s back to grab his ass, sinking nails into the plush flesh to spur the doctor on. He could feel Hannibal’s cock pulsing in his hand, the doctor’s muscles were coiling, so close to coming completely undone.

“Mano meile, aš tave myliu,” Will whispered into Hannibal’s straining neck, his left hand coming up to caress Hannibal’s face. The doctor’s eyes widened as he raised them to meet Will’s gaze, crinkled at the corners and brimming with love. Another few thrusts and Hannibal came, splashing over Will as he continued to rut, choking out Lithuanian promises of love and blood that made Will shiver. The empath whispered _aš tave myliu_ over and over again, pressing sloppy kisses along Hannibal’s cheek and black eye. Lazy and sated in his affections, he worked the final bits of Hannibal’s release from him.

Hannibal collapsed on top of Will, dead weight as he mouthed his love’s neck. Will welcomed the crush, the weight another delicious sensation to memorize. Just when the press started to verge on uncomfortable, Hannibal rolled off, using his arms to keep them joined. Will mourned the loss of Hannibal’s weight, but consoled himself by memorizing the look of pure bliss that smoothed the lines of Hannibal’s face. He looked young, and light, and just a bit silly – Will would have to make him come more often.

When the doctor finally found the energy to open his eyes, he found bemused baby blues watching him.

“The new room in my Mind Palace is fucking filthy,” Will’s sandpaper voice elicited a small eyebrow quirk from Hannibal. “You should be ashamed of the things you’re doing to do to me in there, doctor.”

“When you think of me, mouth stuffed with your cock, please make sure I look contrite.” Hannibal murmured, a toothy grin stretching his face. He brought a hand up to stroke Will’s damp curls, pausing to worry the curve of Will’s ear between his thumb and forefinger.

“So, what’s next?” Will asked. He was sticky and sweaty, and it should be disgusting now that the dopamine was leaving his system. But Will didn’t feel disgusting, he felt buoyant, like he was drifting at sea, moored only by Hannibal’s embrace. He knew they should shower, eat, and feed Jack before he came lumbering upstairs to demand dinner. But in this moment he wanted to pretend that soft touches and warm, goofy smiles were their only worldly responsibilities. Hannibal couldn’t keep the joy from his face, helpless in his happiness, and Will prayed that his love’s expression of pure, glowing delight would become a frequent visitor to their home.

Hannibal tugged gently on Will’s ear, bringing him in for a kiss. There was no urgency to the press, no lust, just a tug of lips, the need for languid fusion of breath and flesh too much to resist.

“I want nothing more than this for the foreseeable future.” Hannibal smiled and Will is struck again by the tender beast that snuggled into Will’s side. “But when we decide to move, I suggest a shower, a quick bite for us and the menace downstairs, and then a lengthy exploration of penetrative sex.”

Will laughed, bright and easy, playfully shoving at Hannibal. The cannibal tightened his arms around Will, easily trapping him to his chest.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Will said, soft laughter turning into a breathless cackle as he squirmed, his happiness a writhing thing that could only be contained in Hannibal’s arms. “But a weirdo who’s going to get laid again tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make the smut hot, but it was all emotional and crap. Stupid feelings. I tried, guys. 
> 
> **Translations**  
>  Mano meile, aš tave myliu - My love, I love you.


	10. Attempt 1 - Hannibal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys! I hope you enjoyed!

They burst through the door in a cacophony of laughter, perhaps a little tipsy from the champagne enjoyed as they strolled along the Rio de La Plata. Hannibal bent to release Jack from his leash, unfastening the ring of peonies and white roses that hung around his neck. Since Will had refused to let Hannibal invite the real Jack to their special day, the cannibal had insisted that his spiritual counterpart serve as flower dog.

Jack bounded into the house, finally free from the flowers he had been trying to eat for the better part of an hour and his infernal leash. Hannibal could hear the lummox rolling in the library, but found himself too busy sucking on his husband's earlobe to care. Will leaned into the affection with a smile, running his hands up Hannibal's chest and lightly scratching the blue dress shirt that matched the empath's eyes. When Will attempted to capture his mouth, Hannibal resisted, instead pulling him into a formal embrace and dragging him around the foyer in a galloping waltz.

Will tripped over his feet trying to catch up, laughing and bright eyed as he was spun past the kitchen. Apparently, Hannibal's grand waltz plans involved a tour of the downstairs, as Will found himself step-together-stepping through the dining room, the library and finally back into the foyer, Jack on their heels and merrily barking the whole time.

After three circuits, Hannibal pulled them to a stop at the base of the steps, both panting and giddy. Will closed his eyes to store this moment in his mind palace and felt something soft trace down the bridge of his nose. He opened his eyes to find Hannibal holding a plush peony, eyes dark and suggestive.

"Would you like to try another dance, my _brangusis_ husband?" He purred, raising an eyebrow.

Will scoffed, snatching the flower and bopping a surprised Hannibal between the eyes with the blossom.

"That's it? I spend months killing myself trying to get you into bed and you decide that our honeymoon warrants a dance, one flower, and the cheesiest pick up line this side of _'what's your sign'_?" Will turned in mock outrage and headed for the bedroom, glancing back once to make sure his husband was following him. "I was expecting a little more from the great Hannibal Lecter."

Hannibal fell into stride beside him, his hand pressing softly to Will's back, an obvious grope that both ignored in favor of their game.

"My name is Hannibal Lecter-Graham, actually."

Will knew. 

So did half the population of Buenos Aires. Mostly because Hannibal had used his new moniker roughly 300 times since he acquired it a few hours ago. It didn't seem to matter that Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter hadn't married and were still presumed dead at the bottom of the Atlantic. It didn't matter that the document at the courthouse had joined Edmond Dantes and Caleb Phelan in holy matrimony. Hannibal decided that he was now a Lecter-Graham and every shopkeeper, waiter, and passerby in the Rio de La Plata area should know this.

It was stupid and reckless, and Will fell a little more in love with his cannibal every time he heard the smooth accent announce _'Dr. Lecter-Graham, pleased to meet you'_ as he bought fruit from street carts or purchased wine from a small boutique.

"Don't get too used to the name, it's only yours until the courthouse opens in the morning and I can rectify my mistake." Will sniffed, swatting Hannibal's hand away only to feel it instantly reappear lower on his back.

"You're so right. Forgive me, darling." Hannibal conceded. "I should have used the tried and true Graham methods of seduction. If you'll allow me a few moments I'm sure I can ruin the kitchen, set the house on fire, and acquire a cock ring."

"You know what you are, Dr. Lecter-Graham? Ungrateful." Will feigned hurt. "After all I did for you? The flowers, chocolates, fine meals, learning Lithuanian, candlelight rendezvous, the poetry recitals, hours studying gay porn – what more did you want? I didn't see you putting any effort into this courtship."

"I believe I gave you romantic poetry and a dog during your...unique wooing process. Was that not encouragement enough?" Hannibal's hand had traveled down from semi-appropriate territory to outright cupping Will's ass. Hannibal used his handful of newly minted Lecter-Graham posterior to steer Will toward their bedroom.

"You got me a dog that's become your minion, which would be terrifying if Jack wasn't so damn stupid, and an old book. Be still my heart." Will grumped, a small curl at the corner of his lips. "I worked myself to death trying to get your persnickety ass into bed. I finally get my wicked way with you, trap you into marriage, and all I get is one lousy flower and a dance around our first floor? I'm disap-"

Will's bluster died on his lips as he took in their bedroom. It was filled with red peonies and white roses, arranged in huge hanging displays and fluffy bouquets throughout the room. The red blooms seemed to climb up the balcony curtains, creating a floral wall that framed the moonlight. Red petals were scattered over the bed, which, Will noted with a smirk, was fitted with the old burned duvet Hannibal claimed to have thrown out a year ago. Champagne was chilling on the nightstand next to a plate of artfully arranged Empanadas de Viento and a large emerald box, filled with truffles.

Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will, mouth resting just at the empath's ear.

"Your friend Lucila really does create superb work, don't you think?" Will could hear the delight in Hannibal's voice, but the empath couldn't seem to find his to respond.

He was not going to cry. After all the stabbings and death and sublime happiness, Hannibal fucking Lecter was not going to make him weep like a little girl because he'd filled their room with a few thousand flowers.

"You," Will's voice cracked. "You forgot the candles."

Hannibal pressed a kiss to the back of Will's neck and stepped away. When Will turned to find his husband, he saw him fiddling with a tablet, tapping the screen. A GIF of candles flickered to life. Hannibal perched the tablet on their nightstand.

"I thought this might be safer." Hannibal said with dancing eyes.

"You're a dick and I hate you." Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal and dragged his husband in for a long wet kiss.

"I will bear the burden of your ire as part of my marital duties," Hannibal whispered into Will's scar as he laid small kisses upon his cheek.

They undressed slowly, not willing to go more than a few moments without a kiss or caress. When Will was down to boxers and a dress shirt, Hannibal snatched him up for another Waltz, this one unhurried. Will pressed himself against Hannibal's bare chest, letting the steady thump of his heart set the pace of their steps. As they weaved around the standing bouquets, Hannibal pressed small kisses into the knuckles of Will's hand, paying special attention to the glinting gold band that had recently taken up residence on his ring finger.

When Will couldn't stop the sniffle, he laughed – at his own silliness, at the perfect joy of the moment. He looked into Hannibal's wet eyes and tried to find words that weren't sappy or stolen from Keats. Hannibal opened his mouth and Will smiled, wondering if his husband had composed him a sonnet.

"JACK! NO!"

_Ok, not quite what I was expecting._

Hannibal's eyes were fixed over Will's shoulder, a look of mild panic crossing his features. Will turned to see their big-footed wonder mouthing at the closed candy box, the plate of Empanadas de Viento consumed. Upon hearing Hannibal's cry, Jack defiantly sunk his teeth into the box and ran for the door, the doctor in hot pursuit.

"Will! Help me corner him in the library!" Will wasn't quite sure how Hannibal made running in sock garters and boxers elegant, but he was impressed none the less. There was a crash downstairs and yelling about the garden, followed by a litany of Lithuanian curses regarding mangy beasts, and threats of the pound that made Will smile. With a sigh at the beautiful bed that would probably go unrumpled tonight, Will took off after his husband.


End file.
